


Are you really meant for me, Gallagher?

by AngelWithoutWings1



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 10:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithoutWings1/pseuds/AngelWithoutWings1
Summary: Ian Gallagher is going to prison.  He's made peace with this fact.  He knows it's going to be tough.  He's anxious, vulnerable and scared.  Once inside, the last thing Ian expects is to be left alone by the inmates, but this is exactly what happens.  It's really weird.  Some inmates won't even look him in the eye.  Even his cellmate, Carlos, is a godsend.  He's Mexican, funny as hell and really has Ian's back.  Ian got lucky.  Didn't he?  Ian Gallagher is about to find out that prison is a really strange place.





	Are you really meant for me, Gallagher?

**Author's Note:**

> So we got endgame. FINALLY. This is a different version that I'm thinking of playing around with. It's still set in prison but with a few twists. I hope you all enjoy.

Tomorrow. Prison. Tomorrow. Prison. Tomorrow. Prison. Tomorrow. Prison.

The same thought rolled around in Ian Gallagher's head. He was laying in his bed, staring blankly at the wall. He had shut the bedside lamp off around 10 minutes ago. Thoughts of prison were torturing him. Ian was imagining all types of fucked up shit. Him being harassed by the inmates, being physically beaten, intimidated, ridiculed, raped. Ian's body trembled. He knows deep down that he can't survive this. There's no fucking way. He isn't strong enough. Ian sucked in a deep breath as tears roll down his cheeks. He tries to think when things got so out of control for him. He shakes his head. He'd be lying if he said he didn't already know. Things went to shit as soon as he left Him at the border. Ian sighs and rolls onto his back. What the fuck had he been thinking? He runs a hand through his hair, then over his face and shuts his eyes. He feels like his heart is going to break out of his chest. Adrenaline is pumping through his veins. Ian realizes he's so scared. Petrified might be a better word. He's probably gonna be someone's bitch by the end of his first day in prison. He isn't tough enough. He hugs a pillow close to his chest, wishing he was holding someone right now. Well, not just someone. Ian quietly sobs in the emptiness of his bedroom, wishing that he could wake up and this was all a bad fucking dream. 

"Hey, you awake?". Lip questions, popping his head in through the bedroom door.  
"Yeah, man." Ian rolls onto his side to face the door and opens his eyes. He reaches up and switches the side lamp back on. Dim light floods the room.  
"I brought you a burger and fries. I thought you should eat, even though its gone midnight". Lip steps into the room and drops the food down on to the bed.  
Ian unwraps the burger and starts to eat, willing himself to keep the food down in his stomach. He feels so nauseous.  
"You'll be ok in there if you keep your head down." Lip looks solemn as he sits at the bottom of Ian's bed.  
"Yeah." That's all Ian can say. Both brothers know its not true, but they don't say anything. Ian knows its best that they both pretend it's going to be ok for him.  
"Do you want company right now?". Lip asks.  
"Nah, man. I'm tired after that food. I'm just gonna go to sleep, if that's ok with you?"  
"Yeah". Lip gets up and grabs the leftover food and makes his way out of the bedroom.

Ian can hear Lip going downstairs and the voices of his siblings float up to him. He struggles with sleep that night. Everything seems so heightened. Memories come flooding back to him on constant repeat. Some memories are bad. Some are good. The good ones always involve dark hair, knuckle tattoos and a killer smile to go with a killer attitude. As Ian's eyes grow heavy and eventually close, his last thoughts of the night are of Him.

 

*************The same day***************************  
Western Illionis, Prison  
Tomorrow. Prison. Tomorrow. Prison. Tomorrow. Prison.

Carlos Gurrera was fucking pissed off. Carlos never got pissed off. This was a new feeling for him. He just didn't appreciate being told what to do. So yeah. Carlos was currently a 6 foot 5 inch ball of very bad energy. There was a reason, obviously. He had been informed only a week ago, that he was going to be having a new roomie. Not just any roomie, either. It was going to be none other than Ian fucking Gallagher. Ian fucking Gallagher. That name. That fucking name. Now, in less than 24 hours, for the first time, he was going to be meeting this bastard. Carlos grit his teeth and lifted more weights above his head. It was hot as balls and he was in no mood for talking shit with anyone today. The other inmates were showing respect and just leaving him the fuck alone. Tony Johnson, a skinhead with a vicious temper, decided to chance his luck and walked over with the offer of a cigarette.  
"You ok, Carlos?" Tony asked, gently, whilst lighting up said cigarette and offering it to him.  
"Do you know how much I wanna fuck Ian Gallagher up? Well, do you?" Carlos took a long drag of the cigarette and willed himself to calm the fuck down.  
"Yeah, of course. I want to get my hands on him too. But you gotta do what you gotta do, you know? Tony glanced at Carlos and was relieved to see the man calming down with each drag of his cigarette.  
"Yeah, I know. I ain't losing my best friend over some fucked up little asshole. The little shit won't believe how lucky he is, with all of us playing nice". Carlos lets out a deep chuckle. The thought of the prison turning into a place of harmony was so ridiculous.  
Tony smirks. "Who would've thought it? You, Carlos, playing nice".  
Carlos smirks back. "Look at you though, eh? You gotta play nice too".  
"Can't fucking wait". Tony rolls his eyes, Carlos gets up off the workout bench and both men make their way back to their cells.  
"Oh, breaking news. I'm also relocating over to West Wing tonight, ready for his Royal Highness". Carlos looks gutted.  
"Ah, man that fucking sucks. South Wing won't be the same without you". Tony claps Carlos on the back, in a losing attempt to make him feel better, as they make their way through a steady stream of inmates.  
Both men go into their opposite cells. As soon as Carlos enters his cell, Tony hears the bickering start. Tony booms out a hearty laugh. Those fucking two. Thick as thieves. 

 

*******************The next day***************************

Ian had been awake and dressed for an hour. The dark black circles around his eyes proved he had been restless during the night. Fiona had made them all a family breakfast and Ian had resisted the urge to throw his plate against the wall. Why did she want to make things normal? He was going to prison where fuck knows what was going to happen to him. He was fresh meat. Weak, fresh meat. Ian grimaced and picked at his pancakes. The family made small talk. Carl tried to get a few laughs but Ian couldn't let himself get involved. He was a man awaiting his fate and he wanted it over with.

An hour later and he was standing at the gate of the looming prison with his family. Ian's hands were shaking so bad so he grabbed at Lip, who was the nearest person and hugged him. The whole family got in on the hug and Ian felt tears streaming down his face.  
After they had parted and said their goodbyes, Ian turned and made his way to the prison.  
He overheard Fiona, saying to Lip "He's gonna be ok, isn't he?" in a panicked voice.  
"Yeah, I'm positive". Lip had replied.  
Ian had the odd urge to burst out laughing. His family were delusional. Here he was, a lamb to the slaughter and they were thinking he's gonna be ok.

As he entered the prison, he stomach nearly fell through his ass. He was strip searched and given his uniform in no time. Ian's heart raced as he made his way through the prison. He tried to put on his best "don't fuck with me" face but knew he probably looked like a fucking pussy to these hardened criminals.  
He noticed a lot of the inmates were just hanging around outside their cells. They all seemed to glance his way, but none held his gaze for more than a second. There was no cat calls or longing looks.  
"They're probably waiting until I'm alone" Ian thought.  
"This is you". The guard said, as they stopped outside the end cell on the row.  
The door opened and Ian stepped inside. Oh, fucking great. He had company. Big fucking company.  
Ian shuffled forward and noticed that this beast of a man who was currently on the bottom bunk was snoring his face off. Ian took in the man's tattoos. He was covered. His arms were completely covered with skulls and Mexican words that Ian didn't know and half of the man's neck had some strange tattoo combo going on which consisted of snakes and angels. Weird. However, this guy looked fucking dangerous.  
"He's going to fuck me up" Ian thought. He timidly set his blanket on the top bunk and tried to be as quiet as humanly possible.  
Ian stood by the bunks like a fucking idiot. He really didn't know if he should jump on the top bunk or just stand. He felt standing would be safer. If he got on the top bunk and fell asleep, what if this guy woke up and decided to fuck him up?

Ian stood still for around 15 minutes while watching the Beast snore his face off to his hearts content. During those 15 minutes, Ian decided it was best to get whatever was going to happen to him over with. He stepped forward and gently shook the other man's arm.  
The Beast opened his eyes, took in Ian, the brown eyes narrowed and suddenly Ian felt the need to take a step back.  
"Ummm, hey. I'm your new cellmate, Ian." Ian could hear the shakiness of his voice and hoped the other man wouldn't notice.  
"Carlos." The man grunted and then swung his legs over the side of the bunk and stood up, walking over and stopping directly in front of Ian.  
Holy fuck. The guy was huge. Ian couldn't help but gulp.  
"Look, Ian. Let's get a few things straight. Hopefully this will calm you down, being as it's your first day and all. I ain't into guys, so you don't have to worry about that. I'm no threat to you in that way. I have a wife and kids waiting for me in Mexico. I'm also not a violent person. Well, not anymore. My best mate thought, a few years ago, that it was a good idea that I work out to get the anger out, you know? So that's what I've been doing. It helps too. So you don't have to worry about me attacking you and beating the living shit out of you. Also, you need to know a few prison rules for this place. You're on West Wing. So you stick to West Wing. Under no circumstances do you go over to South Wing. We all run in different circles here but you do not go onto other Wings. It's the way things are, ok?".  
Carlos looked at Ian to see if anything he had said had registered. Carlos almost felt sorry for the redhead. He looked so lost.  
Ian let the information sink in. "Yeah, ok. I got that". Ian stuck out his hand to Carlos as if he had been in a business meeting. Carlos looked up at Ian and laughed.  
"No shaking hands man. I'm a man of my word. Unlike some people I can think of". Carlos' eyes narrowed once again as they settled on the redhead.  
The remark didn't even register with Ian. He was so relieved that he was in a room with someone who didn't want to kill him or fuck him. The relief washed over him in waves and he suddenly felt really tired.  
He didn't say anything to Carlos as he nudged passed him and climbed up to the top bunk. Carlos in turn, returned to laying on the bottom bunk. Fuck this shit. Carlos missed his cell. He missed his best mate, with his witty one liners that cracked him up on a constant basis. Now he was stuck with this ungrateful little ginger prick. 10 minutes later he could hear soft snores coming from the top bunk. Ian had fallen straight to sleep. Great. Now he could go on his travels.

Carlos quietly got up and gently tapped the glass on the cell door.  
Andrew, the guard on duty, opened the door straight away and let Carlos out. He made his way a block over to South Wing and opened his old cell door.  
Carlos snorted and rolled his eyes as he saw his old boss and best friend sitting, waiting eagerly, a small smile appearing on his lips.  
"Everything ok, man?" His best friend asked, hesitantly.  
"Not that you should care, but yeah. He's sleeping like a baby".  
"Tomorrow's going to be fun, though. And every fucking day after that. How the hell are you going to avoid him for the entirety of his sentence?" Carlos asked, and laughed as his cellmate jumped on him, playfully punching his sides.  
"Don't worry about it. I know what I'm fucking doing, asshole".  
Carlos sighed. "Just as long as you do, man. But you're the boss. So I guess I'm a West Wing loving convict now, right?"  
"I guess you are". The dark haired man chuckled.


End file.
